


Our Man-At-Arms

by MilkyBabyBunny



Category: It - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, First Kiss, French Kissing, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:39:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22693024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilkyBabyBunny/pseuds/MilkyBabyBunny
Summary: Beverly is often the one to pull the trigger.
Relationships: Beverly Marsh/Richie Tozier, Beverly Marsh/Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris, Beverly Marsh/Stanley Uris, Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris
Comments: 10
Kudos: 45
Collections: IT ❀ Valentine's Day Fic Exchange





	Our Man-At-Arms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lil_Lizard_Leah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lil_Lizard_Leah/gifts).

Richie was stuffed up against his bedroom wall, feet lazily stretched toward the end of the bed, with Beverly lying back against him. Her back planted on his stomach, legs crossed, with her head resting upon the dark blue, chipped paint at Richie's other side. And Richie's arm happily looped around her waist. Stanley was sat a safe distance away, at Richie's largely unused desk, chair squarely in opposition to Beverly. They were helping Richie run lines for a local community play that he wanted to audition for.

He'd tried a few school plays, but found that after attending a decent number of community theater productions, everyone there seemed a lot more dedicated and, well, happy to be there. They smiled after performances, bowing with vigor, clinging to each other's hands in show of a true team effort. At school, everything fell flat. Lines were forgotten, but never missed. Lights were on background characters. And the director was usually two sips from a flask away from a nap.

There were high hopes for this venture, if Richie could get passed the nerves in his stomach. Higher reward, higher risk. A collective group of people caring more, meant that Richie'd have actual competition. Beverly had already spent several minutes at the beginning, petting at his curls and reminding him that at his heart, he'd be just as happy helping put together the set, as he would playing a main character. There was always room for more help; so he was worrying over nothing.

She, of course, found the soft blush on his cheeks absolutely endearing, as she often did, and settled into him with ease, knowing her affectionate boy wouldn't mind the extra weight.

His fingers were currently running over the slight ribbing of her undershirt, while his brow furrowed in thought, words coming out of his mouth slow. Until he received some actual kind of direction as to the proper way of memorizing lines, Richie planned to get the words down first, and the emotion later. Especially since he figured there were so many ways to say something, and it ultimately depended upon the director's perspective.

For this particular audition, he had to prepare a monologue, along with a scene that he'd play against others. Probably the usual cast members, mixed in with another new soul or two.

Stan had been roped in not by Richie, but Beverly first and foremost. "It'll give Rich different energies to play off of. C'mon, Stanley. I know you wanna see the kid succeed," Beverly had said, a knowing smirk on her face as she took both of his pale hands in hers, thumbs rubbing over his tendons as she stepped in real close and looked up into his eyes. He'd been helpless, of course. To say no was unthinkable, even though, generally speaking, that was half of Stanley's vocabulary.

Anyway, what else was he gonna do beside spend the whole afternoon _and_ evening with two of his favorite people. He could think of more fun activities, but the company couldn't get much better.

When Beverly came along pulling Stan behind her, Richie had let out a surprised, and happy yawp, before double-clicking the unlock button on the car, as they stepped off the curb.

Now, Stan didn't regret his decision. It was great to see both Richie's struggle and progress. Even more, Stan loved watching the way Beverly played Richie like a fiddle. If his mind started to wander - improvisation was a curse and a gift, and if Richie forgot what he was _supposed_ to say, he'd run off in a completely new and unrelated direction. Amusing, but no good for their goal - all Bev had to do was poke him in the right spot, or grab his nose and shake his head with it, and Richie was breaking down into a half-giggle/half-laugh before pulling the script in for a reminder of the actual dialogue.

That, and the way he reacted when she touched him sweeter, too. When he got something right, when he'd add a good inflection, or let the words come off his tongue more smoothly. He didn't melt so much as perk up. But with the heat he carried in his cheeks and eyes, you'd think otherwise. There was something wild and wanting in his countenance every time. And Stanley didn't know how Bev just kept on resisting it so.

How she just continued on as if she didn't notice the hunger and love dripping off of Richie. Stan knew she did. That she did what she did on purpose, because she liked what she got out of it. But every time Richie nuzzled into _him_, Stan was a wreck of wanting to touch more. Wanting to pull Richie's face up nice and close and either demand he stop being so fucking cute, or at the very least just kiss Stan so he didn't have to worry about making the first, potentially wrong move.

And because Beverly was so much easier and giving, that meant she was in such a position way more often than Stan was... How the fuck did she stand her ground so boldly? At times he wondered if it was a game. If he was wrong about what exactly she did get out of making Richie so fucking enamored with every little touch - but then he'd see the way she bit her lip when looking his way, when Richie was busy and his attention was off into the distance. The way she'd finally let her cheeks go a little more crimson.

Sometimes Stanley couldn't even stand it. Stand to watch her want what she could so easily have, without taking it. So he'd distract them both at the same time, by taking her hand and reading the lines in her palm, the veins in her arm. Make her turn her warm eyes onto himself, and hope that he wasn't blushing too obviously, just from the way her gaze dropped, soft, long lashes and all, at Stan's gentle interruption.

She was so patient... So gorgeous. So infuriating.

Stan let out a soft sigh, and Richie and Beverly both looked up at him, amusement and curiosity in their eyes. A matched look. In sync. He hated them both...

"Okay, okay Stanny. We get it. This isn't your gig. Let's take a break and do something _you_ want to do."

He smirked; it was impossible not to love Richie being so wrong. Stan wasn't bored. He was overwhelmed by happiness that felt simultaneously close and distant all at once.

"I bet I know something he wants to do," Beverly said, breaking Stan's reverie, this peculiar quirk to her voice, leg unfolding, and foot reaching out to settle along Stan's thigh.

Momentarily Stan was smiling, somewhat bewildered, mind in a place he hadn't expected it to go of its own accord. Who was he, _Richie_? But there it was, making his brow twitch in question. But Beverly, as always, was hasty to read him, and he her, in return, because all he needed to do was watch her eyes widen slightly, and her lower lip threaten to disappear beneath her upper row of teeth, fingers tightening their hold on Richie's arm, for Stan to realize he'd completely projected his own desires onto her.

He quickly changed his tone, body and all, as he asked, "Oh you do, now?" with a heaping helping of 'playful' with just a hint of apology for any suggestiveness he'd carried with him before.

Which she graciously accepted with a charming wink, and a nod. "Why, I sure do!" Beverly said, and then stretched her arms out toward him, fingers waving him in with just the barest of moves.

"Oh," Stan said, sucking it in instead of breathing it out, chest puffing up. Betrayal already coming onto his cheeks, he knew. God damn her... "Jesus, is it really that time of day, already?"

"Absolutely," Beverly said, more cunning in her expression than before. So. There was no getting out of it then.

Glancing up to Richie, he met the precious eyes that looked askance and excited all at once. Stan's shoulders dropped, as he exhaled, resigned, and then peeled away from the desk chair, dropping his copy of the script to the floor. "Fine, but I'm going face first so I don't have to fear seeing your two mugs; I'd give myself a waking nightmare."

"Sure, sure," Bev said, while Richie rolled his eyes, and quickly hunkered down, lower into the pillows, arm flexing across Beverly to pull her into a more snug position, so her head was no longer on the stiff wall, but his shoulder instead. "Get in here, cutie."

Beverly purposely lifted her arms, and Richie's, out of the way as Stan kneed up onto the bed, and then buried his face into her warm belly, lying down with his knees comfortably bent toward her legs. She immediately put Richie's hand into Stan's hair, and then her own hands on the shell of Stanley's ear, and his elbow before closing her own eyes.

Richie tipped his head up just enough to satisfy his need to make sure they really were all comfortable enough to last in the positions they were in, and then sighed happily, letting his eyes fall shut behind his glasses. "Best idea, Stanley... Really proud of you for having it," Richie said, words already slurred with contentment, despite the prodding joke of it. That it wasn't Stanley's doing at all.

Against Beverly's stomach, Stanley was happy not to have to respond verbally, but he did reach out to blindly pinch at Richie's knee skin, before letting his hand wrap around the lithe leg with a faux casualness. Beverly snorted, and turned her face toward Richie, burying her ear into his collarbone. "What cuddly boys I have..." she mused, allowed.

Stanley bit at the inside of his lip upon hearing that, free hand itching to grab onto her somewhere. Silently tell her that yes, she did have them. Completely.

But apparently Richie was the one who was bored. Tired of waiting for someone to push the line, so he didn't have to look like a presumptuous dick. "Yeah, yeah. Tell me more about the boys you have, cause I'd be interested in more than just cuddles, y'know."

Well, he couldn't stay planted against Bev's stomach _then_. Stan tipped his head back, dragging their hands along with it, and looked up at Beverly who'd opened her own eyes in surprise and started to blush brighter than Stan had seen before. He watched as her throat swallowed around something extra, and then she cast her eyes down to meet his. Before arching her brow at him. Like, 'Can you believe this guy? Stepping out of status quo like that?'

He wasn't sure if he ought to feel bad, or not, for giving her an answer besides the one she was clearly looking for. Because instead of shrugging it off and insinuating she do the same, Stan licked his lips and held her gaze expectantly.

Bev's shoulders fell back to Richie's chest, and she half-whisper-groaned out an, "Oh my god. You boys are all the same. Am I gonna have to initiate _every_ good kiss in my life? I mean seriously... And for the record I mean ones I can actually _remember_ because -"

Another interruption to the status quo... Richie's hand carefully de-tangled from Stan's curls, and then engulfed the whole far half of Beverly's face, before turning her to look at him, his lips meeting hers, and pointedly interrupting her speech. Stan had seen it coming, and likely so had Beverly. Playing right to it; she was never very far from the strings being pulled.

Some kind of heat struck at Stan, low, when Beverly's eyes closed, and her hand came up to wrap around Richie's, craning her neck so that she could lean right into the kiss, no hesitation. Richie's eyebrows were drawn so tight in concentration and eagerness, that it looked painful. And Stan's hand instinctively clutched tighter at Richie's knee, before he blushed, flooded with heat and want and love, burrowing right back into Beverly's abdomen.

It wasn't a second later, however, that she was pulling him gently away by his hair, and shaking her head. "Oh no, cute stuff. You're not getting out of this. You came; you saw; now conquer."

Blinking, Stan heaved out a breath or two, too quickly to show anything other than his anxiousness. His internal monologue was so passive aggressive that sometimes when Stan was actually fully confronted, he froze. Luckily, Richie was there, and he didn't waste too many moments staring at Stan, dumbly, before knocking into Stan's knee with his shin. "Dude," he said, "She couldn't be giving you any more permission. Kiss her before I get desperate and do it myself."

Jolted, Stanley narrowed his eyes, a continued question in his eyes even as he rose up, and leaned over her, her eyes doing that drooping thing, again, that he loved and hated so much. Only now, maybe he didn't have to hate it, because ... well because he wasn't waiting anymore. "Beverly..." Stan said, quiet, passed wet lips. She forced her eyes to open enough to insist, to reassure. And then closed them at the speed of light as soon as he surged forward, coupling her upper lip between his before he gently pulled back just enough to kiss her lower lip just as soundly, then full on the mouth.

He almost couldn't catch his breath, once Richie's hand was petting at the back of his head, and he pushed his forehead into the crux of Bev's chest, and chin as she pet at his neck too. "See? Was that so hard?" she asked, teasing but breathless, herself.

Richie snorted, "Well, kinda, Bev... He's only having a panic attack."

"No I'm not!" Stan retorted, immediately pulling back with a scowl, before his expression warmed at the sight of Richie's stupid-cute face, so close. He sucked in a final, steadying breath, before leaning closer, over Beverly's middle, to entice Richie. Because, look, he may have had to bite the bullet and kiss one person, but he'd be damned if someone wasn't kissing _him_ next.

A proud, and genuinely amused corner of Richie's long mouth quirked upward, and then Richie's hand found Stan's on the bed, wrapping around Stanley's wrist, kicking up his pulse, as he leaned in the rest of the way and slowly kissed Stan. Opening his mouth up with unparalleled gentleness, that fire licked up his insides, blue-colored. A soft sound escaped Stan's mouth, and Richie just took it as an invitation to press deeper, a hand coming to cradle Stan's angelic jaw, while Beverly pressed a hand to her mouth and covered up an excited squeal that didn't typically match her personality.

How did Richie fucking know... How did he know that that was actually Stan's M.O. - underneath everything. Fucking Richie...

Goosebumps littered the back of Stan's neck when Richie finally pulled back, breathing out hot through his nose, before kissing Stan right in the middle of his forehead with spit-slick lips. Stan grimaced, immediately falling back to his butt so that he could safely wipe at the spit with the back of his hand. "_Richie_," he said, scandalized.

"Oh, come on... You're fucking horny for it, and you know it."

Stan's heaving chest couldn't really argue without looking like an idiot, so he cocked his head to the side and looked to Beverly for help, who had laugh lines around her eyes and mouth. "Oh, _sweetie_, what do you expect _me_ to do? You look like you just had sex... And he only kissed you."

"The _worst_," Stanley said, flopping down over the top of Beverly and Richie's bed, hiding his face again. "The absolute fucking worst," he added, muffled, into her hip bone.

Then the hair petting started up again, and Stan could practically _hear_ Bev and Richie lovingly oggle each other above him, and... well... he couldn't help but be lulled by that fact. Secure, and happy. And so, so lucky.


End file.
